


A Change Of Plans

by ObsidiansChild



Series: The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [11]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidiansChild/pseuds/ObsidiansChild
Summary: Quentin and Eliot find a use for their ridiculously large house.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719526
Comments: 9
Kudos: 99





	A Change Of Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning! This one is just a touch angsty, but not too bad. And we're nearing the end! I think there are only two more installments after this. I'll miss this series so much. I hope you're all doing well. :)
> 
> This installment takes place around nine months after the previous one.

_ Eliot _

“Mmmmmm…”

Eliot smiled down at his husband in the dim light of the bedroom, his hips rocking slowly as he thrust inside of him. “Good, baby?”

Quentin looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered, and Eliot wondered if he’d even remember this in the morning. He’d woken Eliot up pawing at him and softly begging to be fucked, but he seemed half-asleep again. Eliot wondered if he should be offended that Quentin sometimes used his dick as a sleeping aid, but he honestly hadn’t found a way he  _ didn’t _ enjoy fucking Quentin yet, so here they were, and not for the first time. 

One of their phones buzzed against the nightstand and Quentin’s brow furrowed. “Time is it?” he mumbled.

“Ssh,” Eliot told him, lifting a hand from the mattress to smooth his hair. “Whoever it is can wait.”

Quentin nodded in agreement, pulling Eliot down by the neck to kiss him with lazy strokes of his tongue, whimpering when Eliot’s fingers curled around his cock and began to stroke him. “Fuck.”

“Sounds like you’re waking up on me again,” he murmured, his lips leaving Quentin’s to travel across his jaw, to his neck, licking and nibbling gently, barely touching. Quentin sighed raggedly, his fingers pressing into the back of Eliot’s neck, wanting more. Eliot gave it, thrusting more deeply, smirking when he felt Quentin’s legs lift up around his hips. Yes, he was awake now.

The phone buzzed again and Eliot glared at it when it drew Quentin’s eyes. “El, what if it’s Jules?” 

“Baby, she’s ten weeks pregnant. I doubt she needs a ride to the hospital. Besides, Kady’s with her.”

“Uh. Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He focused up on Eliot again, an apologetic smile on his lips. “Please continue?”

Eliot shook his head, biting his lip playfully as he moved within his husband, delighting in the way Quentin’s lips parted and his brow furrowed. He set a slow rhythm, content to take his time as Quentin’s hands roamed through his hair and over his face, down his neck and chest. His hands never settled when they were gentle like this, and Eliot adored it. 

The doorbell rang.

Eliot stilled, groaning in frustration. “What the…” He really couldn’t ignore something was going on now; he knew it was after one in the morning. Not exactly the time for a social call. He watched Quentin grab for his phone in annoyance, but appeared to find nothing and went for Eliot’s instead. 

“It’s Margo,” he told him.

“Jesus, seriously?” Reluctantly, Eliot pulled out, kissing Quentin’s forehead. “I’m sorry. I should see what she’s doing here.”

“It’s fine,” Quentin assured him. “I’m starting to think she just likes to interrupt us, though.”

Eliot chuckled, leaving the bed to find his pajama pants. “Oh, don’t get me started on Joey. I swear, that man has an alarm spell for it. I’ll be back.”

Leaving the bedroom, Eliot made his way down the hall and the stairs, a bit worried, though he told himself Margo was most likely just drunk and missing him. At least she was the one person he wouldn’t care seeing him with his dick hard; she’d get a laugh out of it, and possibly allow him to take care of it before attending to her. 

Seeing Margo through the panes of the front door, however, made Eliot forget all about his dick, and he rushed forward to unlock it. His best friend looked like a drowned rat; it had been raining for hours, but it didn’t explain what she’d been doing  _ out _ in it. “Bambi, what the fuck?” he asked softly, taking her arm and leading her inside. Her skin was chilled under his touch. “Where have you been?”

She shrugged, her expression a bit too carefully blank for his liking. “Waiting for a ride.”

“In the rain?” he asked, locking the door behind her before leading her into the foyer to get a better look at her under the overhead light. Her usually perfect hair was matted to her head and stringy across her shoulders. Her dress was absolutely ruined and her shoes were stained with black smudges. None of that distracted him from the fact that she’d obviously been crying. “Let’s get you dry, okay?” 

She nodded, letting him lead the way up the stairs and into the guest room across from the room he shared with Quentin. “Hang tight for a minute, I’ll be back,” he promised, crossing the hall to enter the bedroom, where he found Quentin looking through his phone.

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking to Eliot in concern.

“I need a shirt. Something. She’s soaked.”

“Oh, um.” Quentin hopped out of bed to search his drawers of their dresser. “My stuff will be big, but not as bad as yours.” He handed Eliot a t-shirt and pair of boxers. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, she hasn’t said anything yet.” He glanced at his husband. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but we’re just across the hall, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Quentin stepped forward to kiss his cheek. “See you in the morning, if nothing else?”

Eliot nodded, leaving the room. Just before he turned left, a thought crossed his mind and he turned right instead, finding a comb and hair dryer in the bathroom, along with one of the elastics Quentin used for his hair sometimes, depending on how long he let it grow between trims. He grabbed a towel as well, all of it clutched in one arm as he returned to the guest room.

He found Margo standing where he’d left her, her eyes roaming the room. “I like your curtains,” she said. 

Eliot shook his head at the random comment, letting the items fall to the bed. “Come here,” he ordered gently, pulling at her arm and turning her to unzip her dress. “What happened, Margo?”

“Josh,” she told him, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“So you got into it and decided to shower on the street?” He pushed the wet fabric to the floor, and Margo lifted her feet to step out of it as Eliot unfastened her bra, letting her pull it off and toss it aside before she started working off her panties herself.

“No, I just couldn’t stay there.” She was nude now except for her heels, which she quickly kicked aside a moment later. Eliot handed her the towel and she rubbed it over her damp skin before pressing it to her hair. Once she was done, Eliot handed her Quentin’s clothes, and she slipped the t-shirt on before catching his eye. “I found him fucking his boss when I got home.”

Eliot’s eyes widened. “Oh… Fuck.” 

“That’s what I get for working late all the time, I guess,” she sighed, pulling the boxers over her hips. 

“Christ, Bambi. I’m sorry.” He pulled her close, smoothing her cold, tangled hair. 

“Yeah, well. Shit happens.” Her voice was choked and Eliot held her closer, tucking her head under his chin until she felt ready to show her face again.

After a long moment, she pulled away and he directed her to sit on the bed in front of him, taking the comb and starting to untangle her hair. “Are you… did you talk about it?” he asked.

“Fuck no,” she laughed bitterly. “I just walked in on it, and… I couldn’t even fuck him up over it, because the bitch is a muggle.  _ God,  _ I wanted to freeze his dick so fucking bad. I just… walked out. And he tried to follow me, which is how I got so fucking wet. I had to use a goddamn illusion spell to throw him off. And that son of a bitch Uber driver didn’t want to let me in his car; I had to give him an extra twenty.”

Eliot rubbed her shoulder before continuing on her hair. “Well, you can freeze his dick tomorrow. You have my full support. Did you… suspect anything, though?”

“No!” she cried softly, sounding pissed about it. “And I don’t know if I should have? I mean, he spends a lot of time with her, but she’s his fucking  _ boss,  _ you know?”

“I do, but if she was at your apartment, I’d suspect this wasn’t the first time.”

She sighed heavily. “You’re probably right. I just… thought things were good, you know?” A dark chuckle escaped her. “Talk about karma, huh?”

And then Margo was sobbing, and Eliot pulled her against him, tossing the comb aside as she curled between his legs. There was nothing he could say to comfort her, so he pressed his lips to her hair instead, his hands smoothing down her arm and her back as she shook, weeping as quietly as possible. Margo never made much noise when she cried, as if she could hide her rare moments of weakness from the world, if only she was quiet about it.

She eventually sat up again, sniffling as she handed him the comb back, not turning to face him. Knowing better than to argue, Eliot resumed combing her hair as she wiped at her eyes. He then dried it and pulled it neatly back, and by that time, Margo was able to look at him. “I don’t know what to do, El.”

“Well, first things first, right? You get some sleep. We can strategize in the morning.” He frowned. “You  _ are  _ done with him, right?”

She scoffed. “Of course I am. I just… I don’t even want to see him long enough to get my shit, you know? And I have a lot of shit.”

“Easily solved. I can portal it out and there’s plenty of room on the third floor, okay? Consider it your personal storage for the time being.”

She gave him a grateful glance, leaning against his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry, though. That it didn’t work out. I never quite understood it, to be honest, but I was happy for you.”

“I mean, so was I. I’m just… lost? I thought things were pretty perfect, and now I’m just wondering what I did wrong, and I  _ hate  _ that. I didn’t do  _ shit  _ wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he agreed, his hand skimming over her shoulder. “If he was… missing something, it wasn’t up to you to figure that out. That’s on him. And maybe… Bambi, some people just aren’t loyal. Even when they are happy.”

She nodded against him. “I know, I was one of them. Which just makes me feel fucking stupid for doubting myself now. I-I didn’t cheat on Alice and Joey because I wanted to hurt them, or because I was miserable. I just wanted it all, I guess. God, I’m such a bitch.”

“Hey,” he admonished, squeezing her arm a bit. “That’s been over and all was forgiven. Don’t dredge it all up now to make yourself feel worse. And if karma is actually a real thing, and this is the universe’s idea of revenge, so what? You’re Margo fucking Hanson; you’ll deal.”

A little laugh escaped her, and Eliot jumped when she squeezed his knee, tickling him. “I know I will.” She sat up to look at him. “You should get back to Q.”

“I told him not to wait up, it’s fine.”

She sighed. “El, I’m probably gonna… fucking cry all night, and it’s not really something I want an audience for. Just… give me a few hours to get my shit together, okay? I’ll need you tomorrow.”

“Bambi, you don’t have to have your shit together for me,” he reminded her, knowing she really meant she didn’t want anyone seeing her until she could shrug back under her armor of barely contained fury. She hadn’t found it yet, but she would. He’d never seen her go without it for long.

She nodded. “I know, but not all of us have a stellar therapist and a supportive husband. I need a few hours just to be… whatever this is, okay?”

Eliot nodded, understanding even though he didn’t want to leave her. “Well, our bed is open if you need me, okay?”

She smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”

He smiled at that, pressing his lips to her forehead before crossing the hall again. Quentin was reclined in the bed again, but the lamp was still on and he opened his eyes when Eliot entered. “She okay?”

“She walked in on Josh fucking his boss,” he explained, slipping off his pants and crawling under the blankets. “So, no.”

“What?” Quentin’s eyes were wide as he sat up on his elbow to look down at him. Eliot only nodded. “I mean… fuck.” He fell back to his pillow. “I guess you never really know, huh?”

Eliot didn’t want to dwell on that particular train of thought, so he pulled Quentin close to him. “Well, I feel like I do. Or I hope so, anyway.”

“I wasn’t talking about us,” Quentin said. “We’re… exempt,” he laughed, kissing the bridge of Eliot’s nose. 

“Good to know.”

“God, fuck Josh,” he sighed. 

“Agreed. I’ll be helping Bambi move her things tomorrow. I hope you’re okay turning our third floor into storage for a bit.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Is she… staying here?”

Eliot pulled away enough to meet his eye. “I… didn’t ask? She wanted to be alone, but--”

“She can stay, I was just wondering. We can figure it out tomorrow. It’s just insane, I’m trying to catch up. They’ve been together almost as long as we have.” He frowned. “I mean, I knew Josh had a reputation back at Brakebills, but…”

“That’s not really fair,” Eliot said. “He wasn’t the only one.”

Quentin gave him a tired look. “El, you didn’t cheat on anyone.”

“No, but I helped plenty of other guys cheat, so I played my part.”

Quentin didn’t look happy for the fact he couldn’t argue that point. “I guess I’m just saying I thought we all changed. Grew up.”

“I guess not. But we can be there for Bambi. She’ll bounce back in no time.”

“Yeah. I just hope this doesn’t… I don’t know. Make her think she can’t have someone?”

“Sweetheart, Margo can have whoever she wants.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know. I’m talking about a relationship.”

“Well, that might take awhile, but I don’t think she’s going to swear off dating over Josh Hoberman. If Margo wants something steady again, she won’t let this scare her off for long.”

“Good. Everyone should be as happy as us.”

Eliot grinned. “Don’t get cheesy on me, Coldwater.”

“You know, I don’t know why I bothered hyphenating my name for you.”

“Hm, well I know I did it just to make admin order a ridiculously long plaque for me.”

Quentin laughed. “You should order a new one with your middle name, too. It’d take up half your desk.”

Eliot glared warningly at him. “You know, I can have it legally removed. I didn’t think it’d be an issue until you.”

“Try it and see how long you go without me touching your dick,” he warned, his eyes steely. Eliot pulled a face at the threat, impressed. 

“Fine, then. But since you brought it up.” He playfully pushed Quentin onto his back, pushing himself up on one arm to kiss him. “Wanna pick up where we left off?”

“I don’t know,  _ Waylon.  _ You sure you want to?”

“God, you fucking brat,” Eliot laughed. “I changed my mind; get on top of me.”

Quentin rolled his eyes, but his obvious annoyance didn’t stop him from doing exactly what he was told, and soon Eliot’s arms were full of his moaning and writhing husband, his lips and teeth on Eliot’s throat and his fingers pinching and tugging Eliot’s nipples as he rode his cock. 

It took no time at all before the room was filled with Quentin’s hot little fast-paced grunts, and Eliot swept his hair back to watch his face. “God, you’re so pretty,” he whispered as he fucked up into him, hard and quick. 

_ “Eliot.” _

“Yes, baby, talk to me.” He held Quentin’s face between his hands, loving watching him fall apart. “God, I wish I could come on your face.”

A ghost of a smile passed over Quentin’s lips. “You could,” he replied, caught between a whisper and a whine. 

“No, I’m good here. Besides, you let me record it last time.” Quentin only lifted his brow in acknowledgment of that, much more focused on the present moment and never really all that willing to discuss the things he allowed Eliot to record in the first place.

Pulling Quentin closer, Eliot kissed him deeply as he quickened his pace even more, intent on hearing his husband come.  _ Wait, fuck.  _

“Hey, baby?”

“Unh?”

“Don’t be too loud, okay? I didn’t think to put up a ward.”

“Oh… Okay. Fuck, I’m close.”

“I know,” Eliot purred against his lips, grinding his hips up against Quentin’s ass, moving his hands to hold his thighs as he watched him jerk off. “Yeah, Q. Come for me.”

_ “El.” _

“Sssh, quiet.”

Quentin whined, his hand working furiously before he tensed, come spilling across Eliot’s chest.  _ “Yes,”  _ Eliot sighed, slamming his hips up until he followed, his mouth open in a silent cry as Quentin fell against him to catch his breath, panting against his face. 

“You okay?” Eliot asked as he came back to himself, shifting his hips to pull out with a wince, Quentin’s face hidden in his neck.

“Uh-huh. Tired.”

“Poor baby,” Eliot said with a smile, cradling the back of his head. “You’re the one who started it.”

“I know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well, if you don’t, things are going to get gross pretty fast,” Eliot reminded him, and Quentin huffed in disappointment, slowly pushing himself up and casting a cleaning spell on the both of them before falling to Eliot’s side. “Thank you.”

“Mmm.” 

And just like that, Quentin was asleep. Eliot rolled his eyes, laughing softly before settling in to join him.

*

The next morning, Margo was all business, wearing Quentin’s sleep shirt and boxers like a power suit as she joined the men in the breakfast nook for sausage and eggs, adding an alarming amount of sugar to her coffee after sitting down. “I’ve already let Harriet know I’ll be out for the next few days while I get my shit in order.”

“I can start the portal as soon as we’re done,” Eliot offered.

“He’ll probably be there,” Margo informed him. 

Eliot shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck. Just let me know what to bring through and I’ll take care of it. Oh, um. Are you going to be staying?”

Margo squirmed uncomfortably. “I mean…”

“Bambi, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we don’t have room,” Quentin spoke up. “Even once the baby’s here, we don’t really need the third floor for anything. It was really just going to be office space, and you having a place to stay is more important than that.”

Eliot saw the subtle dart of Margo’s eyes as Quentin’s words touched her. “Well, okay. I guess I can crash for a little while,” she said casually, and he tried not to cringe when she sipped at her coffee, imagining how thick it must be. “It’s not like it’s going to be easy to find another place in Tribeca on one income.”

“Would it be so bad to look elsewhere?” Eliot asked. “That apartment’s a shoebox, and it’s closer to Josh’s little head shop than your office.”

“You have a point. I guess I’ve just gotten used to the neighborhood. Honestly, Harriet would let me work from home at this point; I could really go anywhere.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eliot told her with a smile. “But for the time being, you can slum it up with us in Brooklyn.”

Margo grinned. “I obviously would be, this place is a disaster,” she teased, stabbing her eggs.

After breakfast was finished and the table was cleared, the three of them made their way to the third floor, which Margo hadn’t seen since Eliot had restored it. “See, El and I can take these two small rooms if we decide to, and you can use these two bigger ones and have your own bathroom,” Quentin spoke, and it was hard for Eliot not to smile. He almost seemed excited over Margo moving in with them.  _ Hell, maybe he is,  _ he thought. It wasn’t the worst thing, having Bambi back in his life on a more permanent basis. He could get used to the idea, even if he felt bad for her over how it had come about. It would be a little like being back at Brakebills, with both his soulmates within the same walls.

Margo helped Eliot build the portal into the living room of her apartment while Quentin removed a few things they’d been storing in the largest room of the floor, like spare table lamps and framed photos and art they hadn’t gotten around to hanging yet. Then, there was nothing for Eliot left to do but step through. “I’ll bring your clothes first,” he told her. “Things I know belong to you, and then you can tell me what’s left.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I can handle him, El.” Her mask of anger was in place again this morning, if perhaps a bit askew.

Eliot smiled down at her. “I know you can handle it yourself, Bambi. But why do that when you have me to do all the heavy lifting? Besides, does he really deserve to set eyes on you ever again?” He looked her up and down. “Well. He could assume a thing or two if he saw you like this,” he allowed with a smirk, kind of loving Margo in Quentin’s clothes.

Her grin was crooked and gorgeous. “You make good points. Let me know if you need me to handle him, though.” She tugged at his arm and he leaned over to let her kiss him on the cheek in thanks. 

Taking a deep breath, Eliot stepped inside Margo and Josh’s tiny Tribeca apartment, ready to call out his presence, but stopped when he saw Josh standing from the white sofa in a fluffy blue bathrobe, his eyes wide. “Eliot? Are you here to kill me? Because that’s fine, but I just really need to--”

Eliot held up his hand, his eyebrow arched in impatience. “Josh. I’m just here for Margo’s things.”

“But if I could just--”

He shook his head. “You had your chance. I’m not here to mediate, and I’m  _ definitely  _ not letting you in my house, so don’t try it. Clear?”

Josh sighed, but nodded, falling back onto the sofa. That bit of awkwardness over with, Eliot walked swiftly to their bedroom, clearing everything hanging in the closet that belonged to his best friend with his telekinesis and walking backwards with it back into his own house. Quentin took as many pieces as he could carry and Eliot floated the rest to the walk-in closet in the front room, settling it neatly on the hangers. Handbags followed, then shoes. Josh huffed a bit when Eliot floated the bed sideways through the door and then the portal, with most of the linens still on it. And the bedroom rug. And the dresser, followed by the mirror. The Fendi chair he’d purchased Margo for her last birthday. A potted orchid. Several framed art prints. 

By the time Eliot was finished, Josh was left with most of the items in the kitchen, the sofa, the television, and whatever had belonged to Josh prior to moving in with Margo, which wasn’t much at all. “Well. ‘Bye, then,” Eliot told him, leaving the sparse living room to return to the third floor of his own home, where Quentin and Margo were stripping the sheets from the bed in the front room. 

Eliot looked around the bedroom, originally chosen to be Quentin’s office, and tilted his head. “I think we could paint in here again.”

Margo gave him a little smile. “Yeah?”

“Well, not that you can’t pull off any color, but I think something a little bolder might work better,” he mused, looking over the pale blue currently on the wall, chosen for Quentin. “We can brainstorm.”

“And then go shopping?” she asked, her eyes hopeful.

Eliot grinned. “You’re really asking me that?”

“Oh, God,” Quentin groaned, tossing the fitted sheet on the floor. “I think I forgot what you two were like.”

Eliot and Margo exchanged a look, her nose wrinkling impishly, and though he knew she wasn’t okay, not yet, he knew she would be.

She was home again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
